The Last True Gentleman On The Planet Earth

Chapter One

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked, growing concerned that their truancy with bedtime had not been commented on.

“Wrong?” said their father, looking pale in the light. “Had a shock.”

“Was someone hurt?” cried Elizabeth, pulling her father onto the sofa. His wife handed him a large drink, he took it and drank it down quickly. “This burns,” he said.

“Father!” shouted Sarah. “Mother, what happened?”

“That nice young man,” she quietly replied. “That nice young man. His lovely, lovely hands.”

Their father continued, “That actor fellow, he was in the audience tonight. It was distressing as everyone knew and spent the whole of the performance twisting their necks to look.”

“They were looking at the woman with him,” their mother said. “Why she was with him is anyone’s guess. The divorce isn’t even final, the lawyers . . . and there she was, as if holding a placard.” She paused. “Holding a placard,” she reiterated into the glass as she drank.

“What actor fellow?” cried Elizabeth, and pushed her father with her hands as if fluffing a pillow. The other two girls piled onto the couch.

“What’sit. Always playing Latin lovers and Sheiks.”

“His hands, that nice young man.” their mother said, far away.

“Dancer, from New Jersey actually, seemed nice; we featured him in a piece last fall in the magazine. Very concerned we keep his provenance out of it. What was it to me?-- we were writing about his house, fluff, colour piece.”

“His floor was sprung for dancing. He asked me to waltz with him; his hands were so small and delicate,” their mother said quietly.

“But what happened?” Alice whined.

“Died. Right there in the street.”

“What?” the girls screamed.

“We were leaving, people were making damned fools of themselves trying to get an eyeful. Your mother and I were stuck in the throng. Nothing moving. The heat, like a damned sheik’s harem the way those women were acting. The perfume and crush; the flashbulbs blinding. People were shouting her name, his, like they were old friends. Rude! We could see him close by, then we were right behind him. Someone pushed me, or fell and I knocked right into him. He turned, his face hostile, never seen such a thing, then he recognized me and it went away … like that. Of course I apologized but we were being jostled by the crowd. He took my hand, “You kept your word,” he said. “You are a true gentlemen.” He looked right at me. Never seen such sad eyes, like a dog’s.

From the other side of the room came the sound of their mother dropping fresh ice into her glass.

“Looked so lonely, the only way I can describe it. He smiled. I thought, how could someone be so lonely in this sea of adoration, that woman on his arm risking scandal just to be seen with him, and yet . . . then we were pushed again, reporters, flashing, his name being shouted. A sea of black hats and fur just took him and washed him to the door.”

Their father paused and raised his glass, surprised to see that it was empty. “By the time we did get to the front it was over, he was being loaded into an ambulance. Women were screaming, I’ve never seen such a display. Screaming. Did you see that, Pet? Screaming!”

Their mother didn’t answer, just turned her back and stood looking at the black window.

“But father,” Alice asked, “the hat?”

“Oh, yes, the hat,” he said startled. “It’s his. It must have fallen off when he fell. Someone said he’d had a heart attack, seemed so young, in good shape. He fell into the street, that dirty street.” He stopped. “You mother saw it. The hat. Obviously it had fallen off, rolled into a puddle. It’s beautiful. Beaver.” Their father looked at it, looked inside, “Hm, Hollywood. I will have it cleaned and return it. Must be someone, family.”